


until the promised day arrives

by A_Confused_Kitten



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: -Ish, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, BAMF Edward Elric, BAMF Roy Mustang, Blind Roy Mustang, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Ed Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Gen, Hurt Roy Mustang, Hurt/Comfort, In the face, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Xingese Roy Mustang, but thats ed for you, characters listed in order of pov, ed punches god, its just 2am and i dont know what to tag, relationships not listed in any order, repeatedly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27072256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Confused_Kitten/pseuds/A_Confused_Kitten
Summary: Alphonse doesn’t know what to do anymore. He’s a halfblood, yes, so he isn’t at as much risk as some of the others but what does that matter? His brother is fierce and angry and loyal and his friends are no different.Al can keep his head down if he needs to, but the family he’s chosen has always worn their hearts on their sleeves, and Al won’t let them face that alone.So he smiles.The world is falling apart around him, and Al smiles.~~In which, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood is fused with the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric & Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Greed & Ling Yao, Lan Fan & Ling Yao, Maes Hughes & Roy Mustang, Mei Chan | May Chang & Ling Yao, Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Roy Mustang & Team Mustang
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	until the promised day arrives

**i. cracks**

There are some places in this world that are inherently meant to be safe. For every person, it's different, because if every soul is unique, why should home be the same?

Home could be a place or a person, or maybe even an idea. It’s the things you never want to let go of, consisting of everything you want to hold close and will fight to keep.

For Ed, home is the soft light flowing through the Slytherin common room and sitting by the cackling fire. It’s thumbing through old alchemy textbooks with Al while Winry experiments with magical prosthetics, laughing all the while. It’s bickering with Mustang as the older Slytherin smirks, Hawkeye not far behind. 

It’s every inch of Hogwarts, from the dungeons to the library and from the astronomy tower to the Great Hall.

And now?

Home is crumbling, tearing apart and there’s nothing to do but watch. 

They call themselves the Homunculi, a reference to the race of alchemical beings, and the name fits like a glove. There’s something _other_ about the six of them, something inhuman, and Ed can’t quite identify it. 

From the moment they arrived, nothing has been safe. Any trace of comfort is lost in a sea of unmistakable cruelty, and it’s all Ed can do to keep his head above water.

( _And God, as if that wasn’t enough of a challenge?_ )

This is war, through and through. You don’t hijack the country’s biggest school and all of the students inside it for anything less than that, you don’t hold dozens of children hostage for a damn game.

This is blatant racism and classism, any possible way to turn them against each other wrapped up with a bow, and the Homunculi didn’t care.

Because to them? This is nothing more than the next step in their plans.

And the only thing Ed can do is greet his teeth and keep going, protect Al and Winry, because he isn’t going to let them take anyone away from him.

Not while he’s still breathing.

They’d made her a prefect.

They’d made her a prefect, and Olivier can barely stop herself from laughing.

They called her a _model student,_ as though Olivier has any intention of sticking to the Homunculi’s rules. No, the moment she could do it without harmful reparations, Olivier was going to fight those freaks with her every breath.

But for now, she waited.

Olivier is far from patient, but her name protects her, and this is one fight she needs to be ready for. If there has ever been a moment to be careful, it’s now, when those loyal to her await, shielded by the Armstrong legacy.

Her family is powerful, an honorable name to bear the weight of, and not even they _dare_ disrespect it.

“We wait for your orders, ma’am,” Buccaneer whispers, steel in his eyes.

“I’ll follow you through whatever path you take us.” Miles vows, watching her through hidden eyes.

“Good.” She says, and that is it.

And when those bastards show the slightest weakness, they will be ready.

Mei stalks the halls at night, Xingese prayers on her tongue. If it weren’t for her soft breaths, it’d be impossible to tell she was there. On nights like this, she walks in a form that’s not her own, her footsteps silent and guarded, instead of light and quick.

On nights like this, Mei feels like she’s someone else.

No one ever expected the smaller ones. No one expects the ones with the quiet smiles and gentle words, or the ones who spend hours practicing foreign concepts and languages, and this is why she excels. 

The Homunculi are on high alert for someone like Oliver Armstrong or Edward Elric, not for someone like Mei Chang. 

Never for someone like Mei Chang.

The Chang Clan has always been small, has always been underestimated. One of the poorest out of fifty clans, one of the ones where nobody has a chance of moving forward. There’s only a handful of people who’ve escaped the status quo, and never on their own.

Mei has always hated it, but now, it’s keeping her at the advantage.

She just wants for everyone to be okay.

She just wants everyone to _survive._

And some nights, where the moonlight catches on the darkened fur of her second skin, glints off the tips of her small claws, Mei curls in on herself. 

No one knows of this second form of hers, of this talent. _It was tradition once,_ she muses, _for clan heirs to change their shape._ Tradition, because a mighty tiger was more dangerous than a mere human, for more reason than one.

But that gift was never meant to be used like this. It’s supposed to be something to be proud of, to show unabashedly, because you are _stronger_ than those who can’t. 

It isn’t meant to be a secret.

It isn’t meant to be a way to escape a war.

 _Zhùyì ānquán,_ she says silently. _Please, stay safe._

He doesn’t know what to do. 

There’s talk of people disappearing-

( _“Paninya’s been gone for two weeks,”_

_“No one’s seen Selim Bradely for almost a month…”_

_“Maria Ross is gone, too.”_ )

-and Alphonse doesn’t know what to _do_ anymore. He’s a halfblood, yes, so he isn’t at as much risk as some of the others but what does that matter? His brother is fierce and angry and loyal and his friends are no different. 

Al can keep his head down if he needs to, but the family he’s chosen has always worn their hearts on their sleeves, and Al won’t let them face that alone.

So he smiles.

The world is falling apart around him, and Al smiles.

He smiles because in times like this, people need it. Everyone needs hope more than ever, because without it, what is the point? What’s the point of fighting behind polite smiles and numbing words if it’s not going to make a difference?

When everything falls apart, he is stable.

Bitter thoughts attack his mind during all hours of the day. _Who’s next?_ His mind whispers. _Winry or Ed or Mei Chang, or maybe even you?_

His mind screams, but still, Al smiles.

Riza has fought before. 

She’s fought every day of her life, every moment she’s in Hogwarts to show that her roots don’t make her. 

Because her magic is generations old, once considered a gift of Ishvala before her ancestors knew its name, and for the first time in decades, a Hawkeye breathes magic.

If it weren’t for her damned magic, she wouldn’t be fighting a war.

Muggleborns are disappearing left and right, and no one will say the thoughts echoing through their minds, the dark whispers surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of _what if’_ s.

( _“What a shame.” The one who calls herself Lust draws, her voice revealing nothing but cool indifference. "Their poor souls."_ )

Riza knows her odds.

She’s a Hufflepuff, a muggleborn with nothing to her name, except whispers of an Isvallan heritage. The only reason she hasn’t gone missing yet is Roy. Still, Riza isn’t one to question such things. This is the life they’re living, and there’s nothing she can do to change it. 

So she does the only thing she can.

Riza keeps an eye on every single thing happening in the ancient castle. Spends hours and hours watching a faded map until each schedule is burned into her mind. It’s simple and methodical and she hates it with every fiber of her being. 

She does it anyway.

 _Roy Mustang_ is the only name keeping her safe, and until the moment that safety is gone, Riza is going to keep going, until as many people are out of harm's way as possible.

Winry’s always been called the smart one. A pureblood with an expertise in magical prosthetics, even when she was a first year. She’s worked with her grandmother, the healer at Hogwarts her entire life, and she knows more healing spells than Ed and Al combined.

Her mother and father were doctors, too, killed in the Ishvalan War, where they healed anyone who came to them, and maybe, she would have done the same. Maybe, if the students who agreed with the Homunculi weren’t killing her friends, or forcing them into hiding, she’d be able to heal them without a second thought.

But those days have long since passed. 

Winry knows how the body works, knows how to heal it and how to replace its missing parts, and in darkest moments, a voice whispers to her. Whispers _how easy would it be to reverse those spells?_ Whispers _you know how to put it together, how easy would it be to tear it apart?_

She never pays attention to it.

Because Winry remembers Ed and Al’s accident, remembers the blood and tears as their magic exploded outwards. Remembers Ed wailing _“We just wanted to see her smile again!”_ and remembers the despondent look on Al’s face, when it had looked like his soul was gone.

Winry remembers.

Not even two weeks later, Edward Elric goes missing.

**ii. splinters**

“Let go of me, you bastard,” Ed mumbles, half-heartedly shoving against Mustang, trying to escape his grip. But his head spins, and his automail aches, because a 6th year he’s never met whispered _cr_ _ucio._ “Mustang, put me down right now or I swear I’ll-”

Mustang shoots him a glare, but there’s something pleading in his eyes. “Be _quiet,_ Ed.”

Ed jerks his arm away, swaying on his feet, bares his teeth. He may respect Mustang, sure, but that doesn't mean he'll follow him blindly. Maybe before all of this he would’ve, but not now. Not when people have gone missing, disappeared into the dark corridors, never to be seen again.

Not when Winry and Al are the only ones he can trust.

Something echoes down the hall, and Mustang freezes. He shoves Ed against the wall, and he refrains from swearing, because that _hurt,_ dammit. “What’s the deal Mustang-”

He cuts himself short, because Mustang’s eyes don’t even look _human_ anymore. “Please just _listen_ to me for once in your damn life, Elric, and be _quiet_ before you get yourself caught.”

And then he's changing, shifting in a way Ed didn't know was possible. Because an eighteen year old shouldn't be able to slip between forms, shouldn't be able to change skins like it was _nothing._ But Roy Mustang has never been one to be satisfied by _it’s impossible,_ just as Ed has never been one for following expectations.

Dark robes smooth into dark fur, and pale skin turns rusted orange. Human eyes become almost feline, watching Ed with intelligence that should be terrifying. Because no animal should look that intelligent, that _human._

 _Stay here,_ those eyes seem to scream, and then, Mustang is gone, slipping around the corner. Moments later, shouts echo through the corridor, bouncing off stone walls as low growls fill the air. 

_Mustang's an animagus,_ Ed realizes, as a dark form slinks in his direction, claws clicking against the hard floor, _some kind of fox._

“We need to go,” Mustang says, human again. “They know something is up, and they’re bound to come looking.”

 _“Who,_ Mustang? Tell me who’s coming, dammit.”

And Mustang smiles, but there’s something different about it. The look is cold and wry and _tired,_ and Mustang never shows any kind of weakness outside of his people. “The Homunculi, Ed. Who else?”

And oh.

Oh, _shit._

Another student finds their way into the chamber of secrets, guarded by a growling fox.

“You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” The student asks, and the fox only stares. “You’re shifting between forms too much, and your body can’t take it.”

The fox, as one can expect, says nothing.

The student narrows his eyes. “You be careful, out there Mustang. You got that?” 

The fox flicks its ear, lashes its tail, and then, it’s gone. 

“Bastard,” the student says, but there’s a grin on his face.

Greed has never agreed with his siblings, not even once.

All they cared about was _power,_ and sure, Greed liked the amount of power he possessed, especially his shield, the one that Father had given to him, but he didn’t crave it in the same way the others did.

Greed craved power, but he also craved the thrill that came with it. He _loved_ the tingle of magic in his bones, loved the influence he could have on people, and the look on their faces when they realized they couldn’t even scratch him.

But here’s the thing. He likes people, and not in the sense of having power over them.

Because unlike the rest of his family, he desires companionship. There are fewer things more soothing than having one of his people by his side, or the familiar banter with Dolcetto and Martel.

Let’s just say that Wrath had ensured that neither of his companions were _alive._

And Greed? Greed is furious.

Because his memories may be failing him, but Greed still knows more secrets than his siblings believe him to. He remembers, and he remembers, and he hates having ever forgotten.

So he plots.

Greed plots and he plans because for all he may hate his siblings, they are one in the same, and he knows them like the back of his hand. He plots and he plans, and somehow, the little Slytherin parseltongue becomes his closest ally.

Maes knows how to stay off the radar.

After all, with friends like Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye, one learns how to be smart. Because when you're trying to get a man to the top, intelligence is key, and creativity even more so, and the Ravenclaw has those mastered.

Maes' mind is as sharp as a tact, or so Roy likes to say, and his magic is twice as fast. You want a quick spell that can pin an opponent? Maes could give you a list of them.

Of course, his _harmless_ game to figure out how many throwing knives he could stash in his uniform certainly adds to that effect. 

But if you need information? Well, Maes has more of that than anyone else. No one suspects him of smuggling information outside of Hogwarts, of sending word to former professors, to aurors and anyone else he _can._

After all, Maes Hughes is just an over-excited Ravenclaw, too focused on his studies and on his lover to pay attention to what's right in front of his face.

But the one called Envy looks him in the eye, a dark grin on their face. "Mister Hughes!" They call, and his chest fills with dread.

His last coherent thought is this:

_Somehow, everything will turn out alright._

Ling has known Mustang for five years now, so he'd like to say he knows how the man works. They're partners after all, and no other student roaming the halls knows about the Chamber of Secrets, or how to open it.

Well, Lan Fan is the exception, but Ling couldn't hide something from her if he tried.

Still, he'd like to imagine he knew the other Slytherin fairly well, even if they're not exactly friends. Because Slytherins look out for their own, and Mustang has always followed that rule as if his life depended on it.

But Maes Hughes is dead, and Mustang is getting desperate.

There are many things Ling doesn't know about his partner, but he is not entirely clueless. 

Mei Chang, his half-sister who he is _technically_ not supposed to be friends with, creeps into his dorms. Whispers half truths and lies because who knows when the shadows may be listening?

She says _"he stalks the halls at night, when he thinks no one is listening,"_ and _"he's searching for the one who did it."_

Because Maes Hughes didn't die naturally, that is clear.

So Ling keeps his eyes open, keeps his senses sharp. He learns to sense the darkness inside the Homunculi, because if they can kill Maes Hughes, a known associate of _Roy Mustang,_ what's preventing them from going after Lan Fan? Or Alphonse Elric?

It means that the Homunculi are no longer playing games, that being _associated_ with someone no longer means safety.

Ling likes to consider himself a friendly person, someone who fights fair. Someone who deserves to rule Xing because of his personality, not because of his abilities. 

None of that matters now. He's already broken the rules in that race by befriending Mei, heir of one of the weakest clans.

But the rules of Hogwarts have changed. Right and wrong are blurred, the line separating them almost gone, and Ling doesn't know how far he's willing to go.

He was supposed to be _safe._

Maes was supposed to be safe because of him. Because of his name, because of what it means. They weren’t supposed to ignore that. Weren’t supposed to ignore _Roy Mustang,_ son of a Xingese noble and Amerstrian merchant. Weren't supposed to ignore his connections in favor of their, albeit true, suspicions.

They were never supposed to kill Maes, but Roy is always useless when it truly mattered.

His claws click against cold concrete, and his tail lashes in his rage. His mind is simpler in this form, but anger still bubbles within his chest, curls around his heart nut Roy can barely breathe.

Because how many people would he fail in this war? Jean Havoc, who'd been paralysed by Lust, too many _crucios_ and his spine was shattered. Kain Fuery, who's never been so jumpy, struggling with the fear of even leaving the Hufflepuff dormitories, and Vato Falman, who never forgets the list of people gone missing. Heymans Breda, who grows colder by the day, while Alex Armstrong's smile becomes more broken.

Roy's doing all he can, but it still isn’t enough.

He’s one man, not even eighteen, and yet, he’s trying to raise an army. He smuggles muggleborns and _defiant_ purebloods and anyone who’s at risk. He’s running himself to the ground, and he knows it, but Roy can’t bring himself to care. He’s exhausted. So what? His best wasn’t enough to save Maes, and Roy pushes himself further everyday.

Getting people to the chamber all night, pretending all day long; it’s beyond exhausting. Still, Roy does it every day with a charming smile.

He’s Roy Mustang, and he’ll use every weapon he’s got.

**iii. fallen**

For centuries, Hogwarts has been considered a safe place. 

It’s a place of learning, a place where a student can decide their future and forget the problems of their homes. It’s a place where no student should ever be in danger, because the teachers there are generous and kind. 

It’s an ancient place, one that’s never been touched by war.

That was then.

This is now.

Someone has dropped a match, and Hogwarts is up in flames. Homunculi stalk the halls, cackling as they kill anyone who _dares_ get in their way, and old professors, and even simple wizards who've gathered for an attack, fall to the ground, taking as many emotionless soldiers with them as they can.

Now? Hogwarts is a warzone, and not a single place is safe from the fire.

Alphonse darts between the melee, dodging spells left and right. Two students follow him, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor, judging on their ties. House doesn’t matter though, not right now. Not when spells bounce off the castle walls, destroying whatever they touch. 

No, these two are first years, and they need sanctuary. 

A tall man steps in front of him, and the first years hide behind him. “Stupefy!” Alphonse shouts, but the man throws up a shield, his eyes blank. _Dammit,_ he thinks, his expression twisting into a frown. Because he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, not even an enemy, but sometimes, people don’t get what they want and-

Quickly, almost too quickly for Alphonse to see, a dark shape rushes around the man’s ankles, and a silvery glint. Within moments, the man is fallen, and a small creature stands on his back. _A ferret,_ he thinks, _or maybe some kind of marten._

And before Alphonse can even blink, Mei Chang is standing in front of him, her yellow and black robes in disarray. “We need to go! I can’t keep changing between forms like this, and Ling Yao is protecting the chamber!”

And together, they’re running, protecting the first years with everything they got.

Olivier smiles, cold and sharp.

Miles and Buccaneer are beside her, just as they had vowed to be, and they fight like every moment is their last. And in the midst of a battle like this one, it may very well be. Somewhere near them, her brother fights with _honor,_ a sure way to die.

In a fight like this, there is no time for such worries. There aren’t second chances, and these men they’re fighting against made their choice. There’s no holding back, and there’s certainly no time for silly things, like remorse or honor.

It’s a fight to survive, and Olivier has no intention to lose.

She fights like a viper, strikes fast and strikes hard, and slowly, they make progress. “Glacius!” She shouts, and Olivier smiles.

These cowards should have known better than to challenge her.

Riza has dueled before. 

This quick back and forth is nothing new to her, nor is the breakneck time required for a safe reaction. She’s dueled Roy dozens, if not hundreds of time, during the seven years they’ve spent at Hogwarts, dueled enough times to recognize a person’s moves.

But a friendly game is nothing like war, and this rapid fire pace is new, even to her. “Protego!” Riza calls, dodging the green glow, “stupefy!” 

Her target goes down, yes, but another one quickly takes their place.

 _They may have the advantage in numbers,_ she thinks, her face grim, _but I know every corner of this school._

With a quick _protego,_ Riza is dashing back into Hogwarts’ twisted corridors. She was a Hufflepuff, dammit, and she’d spent months hard at work, watching a map and memorizing the layout that danced across the old parchment.

She’s a fighter, through and through, and she’ll never go down without a fight.

Ling guards the Chamber of Secrets with his life. Inside it, hidden away from the world, is any person who can’t fight. Whether they’re simply too young, because Alphonse and Mei have gathered anyone in their third year or younger, or because they’re in need of rest, like Vato Falman, who’d barely dodged a hex.

“People are coming.” Lan Fan says, her voice quiet. She refuses to leave his side, even as blood drips from her sleeve, because Rockbell’s prosthetics aren’t meant to withstand this kind of fight. Not after only a few months of being used.

Nothing Ling says could convince her to leave, however, and Ling allows himself to find comfort in her familiar presence. “Send them a message,” he says, hoping he sounds calmer than he feels. “Tell them the Yao Clan heir is guarding anyone in need of protection, and that we’re not leaving anyone behind.”

And Lan Fan nods. Nods, because she knows it’s true. She’s been hidden in the chamber for months, recovering from a dark spell gone wrong, one that cost her an arm, and Rockbell is the only reason she’s still kicking.

“Expecto patronum,” she whispers, and then, a snow leopard is prowling down the hall, disappearing around the bend. Once it's gone, she turns to him, an unreadable look on her face. “I’m with you until the end of this, my prince.”

Ling nods, and silently, he swears to protect her whenever she cannot. “A king is for his people, and I will not leave you behind. I swear it.”

Roy runs across the castle, shooting spells left and right. Anything he can do to help, he does. He’s shifting forms constantly, and damn if Ed wasn’t right when he said this was exhausting, but he does it anyway.

His personal safety isn’t his concern right now, not when there’s so much to be done. Not when there’s so much he could be doing to help.

“Inciendo!” He calls, and with a flick of his wand, a hallway full of empty soldiers is blocked by flames. He does it again and again, because just protecting people is all that matters. Because that’s the goal he needs to focus on. It’s what he needs to keep his thoughts from spiraling to a place he can’t control.

It’s not enough. Every part of him wants to track down the person who killed Maes, because Maes was supposed to be safe, and it’s Roy’s fault he isn’t.

He won’t let that happen again.

Roy won’t let himself be _useless._

It starts with a hostile takeover. A home that was always meant to be safe suddenly thrust into discord, a place where no one could be trusted and everyone was at risk.

This is how it ends. 

Ed faces the one called Father, fire dancing in his eyes. “You’re the one who causes all of this?” He asks, his voice low, and the Father smiles. 

_( All across the school, bodies grow cold, their eyes glazed. Buccaneer, killed defending a fourth year. Greed, dead by his own siblings’ whispered avada kedavra. Heymans Breda and Vato Falmen, who look like they’re only sleeping, lying at the bottom of a staircase. )_

Mustang stands behind him, his eyes covered in crimson, blood running down his side, and he _has_ to be exhausted, has to be on the edge of collapse. Without Hawkeye’s support, Ed doubts he’d be standing, and the thought makes anger bubble inside his chest.

Because Mustang practically saved Ed’s life, and now he’s running blind, maybe forever. 

Because somehow, Mustang and Hawkeye have become the protectors of Hogwarts, keeping the muggleborns safe and sheltering anyone on the Homunculi's list. 

The Father smiles, and Ed sees red. 

“You bastard!” He snarls, and then the fight is on.

Spells fly across the courtyard, green and red, red and green. “Ed, _move!_ ” A voice calls, and then fire is rushing past him, close enough for the heat to lick at Ed’s skin. 

But he doesn’t care.

 _Protego,_ he thinks, grinning as the non-verbal spell works, because it was a risk to try, but a risk that paid off. The Father watches him approach, his face forever stuck in that horrible smile. So Ed just-

Punches him.

The smile fades, and Ed’s grin turns feral. The bastard is human, and no human is without their limits. And no human is meant to absorb as much magic as he has. 

He winds back his automail fist. _“This_ is for messing with my home, you bastard.” Again. Crimson spills over his prosthetic. _“This_ is for all of the people who’ve died here.” Again. “And _this_ is for everyone who’s had to hide in the gutter just to stay alive.”

Somehow, the Father dies.

His body shuts down, stuffed too full of foriegn magic to contain itself, and he falls. His body falls backwards and hits the ground, and not a soul in the world will ever grieve for him. 

Not a soul will miss the man, and Ed can’t be bothered to care.

“It’s over,” he breathes, golden eyes looking over who is left. Looking to see who survived the horror show, to see who’s still whole.

A part of him wonders how many people they’ve lost. Wonders how many died to protect their home, how many people are trapped amongst the corridors, how many people would feature in his nightmares. 

“It’s finally over,” he says, and it feels like a prayer. “The Promised Day is over.”

The nightmares never fade.

Years later, Ed is professor at Hogwarts, teaching alchemy like he used to dream about as a first year. He rooms with Roy, who teaches transfiguration, and doesn’t that fit?

 _It looks like we finally figured how to get along,_ he thinks with a grin, because he’s taught for three years now, and some days, everything seems perfect. 

Others, Ed lies awake until dawn, remembering how close it could have come to ruin, or Roy spends hours in his animagus form, jumping at his every movement, because at least in that form his senses make up for his clouded eyes. 

On the worst nights, they sit vigil together. 

Riza, Winry, Al, and Mei like to visit them, when they can. Their former classmates are always busy, always running on empty, because it’s all they know how to do. Winry opens up an automail shop in Diagon Alley, Al and Mei become healers, Riza dives headfirst into ministry work. 

Ling comes by, calls Roy his partner, and he talks for hours on end. Talks until his voice is gone, just to fill up the silence. Talks about Mei and Xing and so many topics, because it’s the only thing he can do to cope. 

Last time Ed checked, he was bouncing back and forth between Amestris and Xing, trying to find the place he fit in, Lan Fan never leaving his side.

They have good days, and they have bad ones, but he has two good legs, and he can use them. 

He’ll be damned if he lets his ghosts keep him trapped in one place, if they freeze his mind in the past, so Edward Elric moves forward. And for the others? Well, Ed grabs on tight, and he never lets go.

They’ve survived the flames that longed to burn them to the ground, and there’s only one way to go from here.

**Author's Note:**

> Character Key (in order of appearance):
> 
> Edward Elric: half-blood, Slytherin, fifth year.  
> .  
> Alphonse Elric: half-blood, Hufflepuff, fourth year.  
> .  
> Winry Rockbell: pureblood, Ravenclaw, fifth year.  
> .  
> Roy Mustang: pureblood, Slytherin, seventh year, cross fox animagus.  
> .  
> Riza Hawkeye: muggleborn, Hufflepuff, seventh year.  
> .  
> Olivier Armstrong: pureblood, Slytherin, seventh year.  
> .  
> Buccaneer: half-blood, Gryffindor, seventh year.  
> .  
> Miles: half-blood, Ravenclaw, seventh year.  
> .  
> Mei Chang: half-blood, Hufflepuff, fourth year, sable animagus.  
> .  
> Maes Hughes: muggleborn, Ravenclaw, seventh year.  
> .  
> Ling Yao: pureblood, Slytherin, fifth year.  
> .  
> Lan Fan: half-blood, Gryffindor, fifth year.  
> .  
> Jean havoc: half-blood, Gryffindor, seventh year.  
> .  
> Kain Fuery: muggleborn, Hufflepuff, sixth year.  
> .  
> Vato Falman: pureblood, Ravenclaw, seventh year.  
> .  
> Heymans Breda: half-blood, Gryffindor, seventh year.  
> .  
> Alex Armstrong: pureblood, Hufflepuff, sixth year.
> 
> Hey guys! I was planning on having this out sooner, but Supernatural has kind of taken over my head right now. Which honestly just means I'm posting more angst than normal. I think I may end up writing a sequel to this, which would take place a few years later, so what are your guys' thoughts on that? 
> 
> Also, I'm curious if y'all think everyone's houses fit their character. Ed was hardest to sort, while Mustang was the easiest.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading!  
> ~ Cheshire


End file.
